Hunting and Trapping
by super manako sohma
Summary: His features, much more dirtier than mine, shone through what little light allowed in the closed space. “’Allo, Gregory,” Christophe cooed, “eet looks like I caught myself somezing good.” I chuckled quietly. “So it seems.” ChristopheGregory


Mana here. I thought I'd try another GregoryxChristophe one, just because 1.) I love this pairing, and 2.) there isn't enough of it out there (hint). Don't leave brilliance into the hands of stupidity!! Lolol, ok here you go.

Hunting and Trapping

With a rope in my hands and the flag of La Resistance draped on my shoulders, I stood before my best friend at his house the night before it all happened.

"I can't let them go, Mole. They're too inexperienced."

"Why did you not say 'no,' zen?"

"That boy," I said fumbling with the rope, "there was something about him that I just couldn't deny."

"Well, I'm going wiz zem to make sure zey don't fuck up ze mission."

"It's too dangerous. What if you get killed?"

"What makes you say zat?"

The blood of Christophe began to stain my hands faster than I could grasp the situation. The scene changed and he was now lying in the hole outside of the USO show, dogs tearing at his flesh. I could do nothing but watch. Then a Doberman lunged forward at me and I screamed.

My eyes snapped open as I awoke in a cold sweat.

The clock on my nightstand read 3:30 am. I growled; I've got _eons_ before I needed to get up and get ready for school.

I slumped back into my overly stuffed pillow, drawing the silk-lined comforter over my eyes in attempt to return to sleep. But I couldn't.

Why did I have that dream? There really can't be anything good behind that. I spent the rest of the ten minutes reflecting on that.

Eventually I gave up on sleep. I threw off my covers and dressed into my clothing I planned on wearing the next day. Quietly I crawled out of my window, so as to not wake up mother and father. It was a long distance from my bedroom to the ground of my family's mansion so I climb down using the ivy. It did grow quite thick, which was good for someone of my small stature to climb down and not risk falling.

I entered the forest surrounding the mansion. It was here where I'd usually go off to think, but in this case I wanted to wander around until I got tired. But if that didn't happen, I didn't mind.

I've never actually been to the forest during the night, since father had always told me otherwise. And I understand what he probably meant; the trees did look somewhat eerie. Humanoid, if you will. It was like the stories of monsters mother told me in my infant days.

I took note of the rather wet surfaces of the forest. It had rained earlier that day and I didn't want to slip. But such is my luck.

The ground below me crumbled and it wasn't before long I began to fall. Obviously a trap someone had set up for hunting purposes, and I'm the only animal dumb enough to fall for it. I should probably tell Father someone's hunting on our land.

I landed on the soft bottom of the pit. I grimaced at my soiled attire, but still grateful that that was the only thing that was harmed.

Gazing up from the bottom I found that this hole was particularly deep. Now, climbing up back shouldn't be too difficult, right? I gripped the sides of the hole to try to find a steady way to escape, but it simply slipped through my fingers. The rain had softened the ground, making a steady grip on it nearly impossible. I grabbed onto a nearby root, but to my dismay it had been broken off.

After various attempts of escaping I grew weary. I sat down on the ground to take a rest but I must have dozed off, for I couldn't remember anything after that.

--

I was woken up by the raindrops' kisses on my face. Morning already? It was a rainy morning at that, and I cursed as the ground below me became squishier. Getting out would be very impossible now.

I looked up and almost jumped back in surprised when I saw a figure at the mouth of the hole.

It was Christophe. I should have known, he was the only one I knew who'd dig in a restricted area.

His features, much more dirtier than mine, shone through what little light allowed in the closed space. His smile was ever so cunning as always.

"'Allo, Gregory," Christophe cooed, "eet looks like I caught myself somezing good."

I chuckled quietly. "So it seems."

"And what are you doing 'ere? Zis is my 'ole."

"You know you're not allowed to dig here."

A devilish grin besmirched his face.

"Shall I take eet home to Muzzar so she can fry eet for supper?"

His sense of humor was what one call disturbing, but if you've known him for as long as I have, you'd come to appreciate it.

"Or per'aps I shall cook some of eet now and freeze ze rest for ze Winter?"

"Mole!"

"_Non_, you do not like zat?"

I brushed myself off. "It's an uncomfortable feeling being without your legs for the duration of the season."

"Shall I cut off your arms zen? Would zat be a leetle more comfortable for you, Gregory?"

"Just get me out of here, Christophe."

Mole sighed in surrender and reached his arm into the hole.

"_Oui_, _oui_."

I grasped his dirty hand, but I guess mine wasn't any different, save for the fact his hand was callused and rough from all the digging he'd done. He pulled me up using hardly any strength at all, but that would be expected of a mercenary.

"So, what were you really planning on trapping?" I asked out of curiosity.

Christophe shook his head.

"I just wanted to see if zat approach would work."

"Oh, so you were testing on me then?" I asked in mock offense.

"Eet worked, didn't eet?"

I pushed him jokingly too the side.

"What? Now I know what to do for ze mission."

I froze dead.

"You—have another mission?" I choked.

"_Oui_, and eet is good pay zis time. Not like ze last time, where I was cheated. Zose beetches."

I ignored his statement. The dream of last night came flooding back to me. The trench. The dogs. All that blood. I shuddered.

I had almost lost him once; I didn't want to lose him again.

"Ees somezing ze matter?"

I looked over to him, but didn't realize that my eyes had grown puffy. He touched my shoulder so gently and like a switch, the tears had begun rolling down my cheeks. I tried hastily to wipe them away but he still noticed.

He stepped forward and before I knew it I was in his arms, my face pressed to his chest. He whispered something in French that sounded like a consolation.

"Don't go," I whispered, still choked up, "please don't."

I realized I was grasping onto his shirt like a child.

"Eet's ok," he whispered back.

"No! You'll be killed!" I blurted out. I expected him to be angry with me, but he laughed.

"You zink I will be keeled?"

He kissed my cheek ever so slightly. That made me smile a little when I looked back at him.

"Just…be careful."

"Always for you, _mon cher_."

XX

This had no point to it, and it's rather poorly written, but I've been dreaming of writing it for quite some time now.


End file.
